


Mint

by a_xmasmurder



Series: What Sherlock Will Lick for Science [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack Fic, Gen, Ice Cream, Science, allergy, it's for science, mint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, licking things for science. Sherlock does this. John is a bit...annoyed. But at least he's fed this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mint

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Antidiogenes for the idea, and nichellen for the beta and brit pick! Also lestradesexwife for the information!!!!

Finally. A decent restaurant, one that they can sit down and have a proper dinner. John smirked and laid out the napkin on his lap. “Now, see, isn’t this nice?”

 ****  
Harry closed her eyes and groaned. “Is there a wine list?”  
  
“Yes. And no, you can not look at it.” John snatched up the menu before she could, and tapped at her water. “It’s either that, or a soft drink. No. Alcohol. Understand?”  
  
“Oh, for- fine. Ok. Fine. No alcohol.”  
  
“Good.” He jerked his head down in a quick nod and looked down at the menu in his hands. “Apparently, Sherlock’s brother is paying for this, so order the most expensive thing you can think of. And make it good.” He grimaced and muttered, “Not sure why he’s treating us to dinner...”  
  
“Do you think he wants something?”  
  
“He wants me to do something for him.” John’s eyes rolled back as his phone vibrated in his pocket, as if to say _Oh, God, here we go. Can I not have just one night to myself?_  
  
“What’s wrong?” Harry poked at her lemon despondently and looked at him strangely.  
  
“Nothing, it’s -- hold on.” He shook his head and pulled out his offending phone, and prodded it to wake it up. The screen glared at him, showing one new text. After checking the number (Sherlock, of course), he opened it.  
  
\---Text From Sherlock Holmes ---  
 _Where are you? SH_  
  
John sighed, and sent a quick little _‘At dinner w/ Harry. Talk later.’_  
  
“He’s texting you?”  
  
He lowered his head and nodded slowly. Harry only sniggered at him. “That’s funny, actually. He’s like a lost puppy.”  
  
“He is not a puppy, he just...” A buzz announced another text. “Jesus.” He grabbed the phone from the table and glanced at it.  
  
\---Text from Sherlock Holmes ---  
 _Where? Do try to use basic grammar, at least, John. SH_  
  
“I’m not telling him where we are.”  
  
 _‘I’m not telling u where we r. go do one of your experiments or something’_  
  
The waiter sauntered up to the table. “Could I start you off with something from the wine list?”  
  
Harry’s eyes lit up, but John got there first with, “A couple of Cokes would be fine, I think.” The scowl that earned him was entirely worth the sharp kick from under the table. He smirked. “And I think we are ready to order, as well.”  
  
“Ah.” The waiter turned towards John fully. “What would you like, then?”  
  
John’s smirk turned evil. No one ever accused either of the Watson siblings of being lightweights when they ate. By the matching smirk on his sister’s face, she was on the same page.  
  
“I think we’ll start with the lobster appetizer dish, then...”  
  
  
  
John ignored the thirty ( _thirty? Really, Sherlock?_ ) texts that made his phone into a vibrator (Harry had said that once, and the word stuck), and ate until he just...couldn’t eat anymore. He rubbed his stomach and groaned heartily. God, it was so good!  
  
Harry leaned back in her chair and sipped her water. “Aren’t you going to answer those texts from your husband?”  
  
“Jesus, Harry, we aren’t married!” He threw his napkin at her. She cackled, then quieted at the looks everyone in their immediate vicinity threw at her.  
  
John couldn’t help it; he had to giggle at her expression. “Don’t worry. We probably won’t be coming back here anyway.” He grimaced. “Not with my budget, anyway.”  
  
“I don’t even want to see the bill.”  
  
“Thankfully, we won’t have to.”  
  
Harry picked that moment to glance up towards the front of the building, and John watched her face dissolve into a rictus of amusement and horror. “What’s wrong? Clara here?”  
  
“No.” Her eyes widened. “Speaking of your boyfriend...”  
  
“We are not-”  
  
“He’s here.”  
  
John spun around in his seat. “What?” His head cranked around, and by God, there he was.  
  
Sherlock weaved his way through the tables, pausing here and there to pick up random pieces of silverware and...oh. My. God.  
  
He was _licking them_.  
  
Actually licking the silverware and...making notations in a little notepad that he had in his other hand.  
  
“You have got to be kidding me. You have got to be kidding me.” John dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “No. Please, no. God no.”  
  
“He just plucked someone’s dessert spoon out of their hands, John.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Harry grinned. “Yes. And he just handed it back.”  
  
“This can not be happening to me.”  
  
“Oh. It is. He’s headed in our direction.”  
  
“Oh, God.”  
  
He heard Sherlock’s coat swish as the man pulled out a chair and parked himself right next to him. “Hello, John...Harriet.”  
  
Harry glared at him. “It’s Harry.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter.” He poked at John’s leftover ice cream with one of the stolen spoons. “John, I’d like your assistance with an experiment.”  
  
“Sherlock.” John began counting backwards from one hundred in his head and hoped the flush of embarrassment was gone from his cheeks when he looked back up. Judging by the amused expressions on both his sister’s and his flatmate’s faces, it hadn’t. “What the hell are you doing?” The last word came out of his mouth in a hiss. “What. The hell.”  
  
“It’s an experiment, John. I’m testing the different sensation areas of the mouth and tongue. I already have heat, cold, pressure, pain...now I have begun to add taste to the study. An expensive restaurant such as this is the perfect venue in which to start.”  
  
“But.” John groaned again. “But you can’t just lick people’s cutlery, Sherlock! You just can’t! It’s not sanitary, and...and...it’s just not on!” He couldn’t believe that this was happening. Maybe he was dreaming. Yeah, that’s it. He’s dreaming this. He’s got to be.  
  
“I don’t know how you are going to pay for all the food you two ate, John.”  
  
“Your brother is paying for it.” Harry wiped her mouth with her napkin. “We couldn’t say no to that offer.”  
  
“Oh, ugh. Mycroft. He most likely wants you to help him with his little issue regarding those files he forced upon us last week, John. You shouldn’t have agreed to it.  You owe him now, and he will collect that favour. I can guarantee that.”  
  
John shook his head at this insufferable and disproportionately...amusing man. Oh, bugger. Yes, amusing. He couldn’t stop the giggle from bubbling to the surface. “Save me. Save me from this .... Sherlock- that is not your problem. Your problem is how you are going to explain to these people - who will go to the manager to tell him about what you are doing - you are licking their bloody forks!”  
  
Sherlock shook his head. “It’s not a problem. They are probably too shocked to do anything about it. If anything, their slow little minds are just now trying to comprehend what happened. I made sure to leave at least one untainted piece of silverware for them to use once I got my sample.” His brows suddenly furrowed. “Is that mint ice cream?”  
  
“Sherlock...what? Yes, that is mint - what are you doing?”  
  
Sherlock leaned forward and scooped two fingers into John’s dessert and popped the mess into his mouth, nearly moaning in pleasure. “Oh, I adore mint ice cream! Simply adore it” He flipped the page on his notebook and jotted down a couple notes. John sighed and sagged in his seat, resigned in his disbelieving state.  
  
“You just...stuck your fucking fingers into my ice cream, Sherlock. I don’t know where those fingers have been!”  
  
“Oh, you weren’t going to finish it, John, stop being so pedes...” Sherlock stopped mid-sentence, a confused and slightly horrified look crossing his face. John and Harry both leaned forward, waiting for the detective to finish his insult. He didn’t. His expression only grew more confused.  
  
John peered at him. Something was wrong. “Sherlock?”  
  
The man’s suddenly panicked eyes flicked up to meet John’s. “John...I’m having a hard time...swallowing.” He winced. “Ah...I think...”  
  
Harry muttered an expletive as John nearly shot out of his seat. “Sherlock. Can you breathe? Are you having trouble breathing?”  
  
He shook his head slowly. “No...just...weird. Itchy. My throat is tight.” His wince deepened. “I do believe I may be having some sort of...”  
  
“Allergic reaction...Sherlock, do you have allergies?” John tapped Sherlock’s jaw. “Open up.”  
  
Reluctantly, Sherlock did, and John looked in, and sure enough, there was swelling and redness. “Yep. Ok, up you get, Sherlock. Experiment over. We are going home.”  
  
“But...I could be dying!”  
  
John shook his head. “It would serve you right for embarrassing me here.”  
  
“But...”  
  
“Nope. You are going to be fine, just calm down.”  
  
“Dying, John. DYING.”  
  
“No, you’re not.”  
  
Harry sniggered. John flashed her a ‘disapproving big brother’ look, then glanced up at...ah, shit.  
  
The manager, and two rather large waiters.  
  
Brilliant.


End file.
